May 4, 2008

Glynn Cardy

Ascension Sunday     1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

Sentence and Prayer of the Day:

“What the Church has done to Jesus Christ is what the Governor of California wants to do to the redwoods – chop them down and make them into comfortable lounge furniture” – Daniel Berrigan SJ 1972

“We have one of our priests in prison right now, Steve Kelly, for his antiwar actions, and three of us in the community are forbidden to visit him because we're all convicted felons.” – Daniel Berrigan SJ

Let us give thanks for the lives of all prophets, teachers, healers and revolutionaries, living and dead, acclaimed or obscure, who have rebelled, worked and suffered for the cause of love and joy. We also celebrate that part of us, that part within ourselves, which has rebelled, worked and suffered for the cause of love and joy. Amen. – Michael Leunig

There is a long history of protesting Christians. This last week three, including Fr Peter Murnane who has preached at St Matthew’s, were at it again. They punctured a balloon covering intelligence-gathering equipment at Waihopai in the South Island. They also punctured the illusion that New Zealanders are far removed from American wars.

It is well attested that Waihopai information is fed to the American military. It is well attested that the American military invaded Iraq on spurious grounds. And it is well attested that the vast majority of casualties since that invasion have been Iraqi civilians. The preservation of all human life is fundamental to Christian belief. War, and all that aids and abets war, is anathema. War is murder, and Waihopai is complicit in it.

The Waihopai three are part of the international Christian network called Ploughshares. The name comes from the biblical verses admonishing the people to turn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks.

There are of course many people who, while sympathetic to condemnation of the Iraq occupation, disagree with the protesters about breaking the law and destroying public property. Ploughshares however justify their actions in terms of the greater good. Do you worry, for example, about breaking down the front door of a house and illegally entering if there is a fire and children are trapped inside? Ploughshares would say that war is raging out of control, children are trapped, and we need to help.

The Berrigan brothers and their friends formed Ploughshares in 1980. Daniel and Philip Berrigan however were already well known for their social action. Daniel was a Jesuit and Philip a Josephite priest. In 1968 during the Vietnam War, for example, they and seven others invaded the selective service office in Catonsville, Maryland, pulled draft files out of their cabinets, piled them outside, and set them afire with homemade napalm. They went to prison for 3 years.

Dan Berrigan wrote, in advance of the Catonsville action: "Our apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children. How many must die before our voices are heard, how many must be tortured, dislocated, starved, maddened? When, at what point, will you say no to this war?"

On September 9th 1980 Dan, Philip, and six others began the Ploughshares movement. They illegally trespassed onto the General Electric Nuclear Missile facility in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, where they damaged nuclear warhead nose cones and poured blood onto documents and files. They were arrested, charged, and imprisoned.

The most well-known New Zealander involved in a Ploughshares action is Moana Cole. In 1991 Moana was part of the ANZAC Ploughshares that entered Griffith Air Force Base in New Jersey, hammered on a B52 bomber headed for Iraq, poured blood on it, said prayers and started digging up the runway. The four people were arrested and spent one year in jail.

In 1994 Moana was involved in the first Ploughshares action on New Zealand soil. Moana and Australian Ciaron O’Reilly entered Harewood US Airforce Base in Christchurch on Hiroshima Day where they poured blood, prayed and were subsequently arrested and fined several hundred dollars.

Ploughshares differ from other types of protest in that they are liturgies, intentionally sacramental. A sacrament is a ‘window into God’. It is an action that helps us see into the nature and meaning of the Divine. The pouring of blood [sometimes the protesters own blood], the hammering of weapons of war into implements of peace, the use of sickles… all these are symbolic theatrical acts that point to a God who loves all, who desires peace, and who is prepared to confront the powers that be to achieve it. The God of this liturgy is not a couch potato but an activist intent on change.

In many churches and their liturgies there is the notion that God is always a human-shaped hug. When walking beyond the comfort of such notions of ‘loving God forever kind’ not only do our ideas about God change but the language to connect with God also changes. The liturgy of protest makes us look afresh at God-language. Often in my experience no language can immediately help. For a while, sometimes quite a while, we walk our liturgy in silence and tears.

Protest actions of course can easily be misconstrued. It is hard to have the ‘perfect protest’. Someone’s idea of the sacred – whether it be ‘property’, ‘the law’, or ‘the church’ will always be desecrated. Think of Jesus and the cleansing the Temple episode. He destroyed other people’s property, disrupted legitimate business, and brought violence and upset into a holy place! Liturgies of protest will always be offensive to some, and especially to those with the biggest investment in the political and religious status quo.

There is something about political action that shapes us. In times of social upheaval physical location is important. Are we marching on the streets, or expressing our opposition to neighbours over the back fence, or watching on television, or switching channels, or wishing the government would crack down on these protesters, or being part of the constabulary doing the cracking? Many of us here this morning have protested against wars in Vietnam and Iraq, against nuclear warships, against racism in South Africa and in our own land, against policies that entrench poverty, and many other things. We are a church who walks our faith with placards.

There is always vulnerability in liturgies of protest. You are clumped together with a great variety of people and are assumed to think the same about this and any other issue. I have walked with communists, freemasons, and grandmothers, ACT party members, and those in favour of legalising marijuana. You are also vulnerable because at times there is violence and abuse directed against you. It might be a bystander with a rock, or an over-exuberant police officer.

These experiences, these liturgies of protest, shape our prayer in ways that are difficult to describe. That mix of passion, solidarity, vulnerability, and potential violence affects you. It is often a time of looking into your own soul and being found by the god who is there. The frightening thing is we may not recognise this god as God.

I know when I meet someone who has marched with me, who has stood alongside me, who has been arrested with me, that I have a certain respect for and trust in them. Conversely when I am with people, particularly those who aspire to leadership, who have never stood up for any issue, then no matter how talented they are I find it difficult to give them the same degree of respect and trust. Will they walk their faith when it counts? Will they risk displeasure, abuse, and ill-informed criticism?

The ANZAC Ploughshares trio wrote last week: “At 6am we cut through three security fences surrounding the domes – these are armed with razor wire, infrared motion sensors and a high voltage electrified fence. Once inside we used sickles to cut one of the two 30-metre white domes, built a shrine and knelt in prayer to remember the people killed by United States military activity.”

Today let us give thanks for them, pray for them, but above all pray for the victims of war – including our own damaged souls.